


all of the things that no one else will do

by VJR22_6



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991)
Genre: M/M, Sick Character, same w loopey, tank and honker are mentioned but don’t actually appear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VJR22_6/pseuds/VJR22_6
Summary: Gos comes down with a cold, and Drake is quick to care for her. When he catches it himself, Launchpad gives him the care he’s so used to giving but not receiving.
Relationships: Drake Mallard & Gosalyn Mallard, Drake Mallard/Launchpad McQuack
Comments: 10
Kudos: 112





	all of the things that no one else will do

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! Here’s some soft Drake-gets-the-love-he-deserves fic for you all. Shoutout to my duck fam for the beta-read and kind responses on it. Love you 💜 /p
> 
> Title is a line from Ella Henderson’s “Take Care of You.”

“--So I’d say that’s pretty neat. And now, the weather! Carlos?”

“Thank you, Cecil. As many of you can tell, the snowstorm that closed schools earlier in the week has not slowed down! Temperatures are predicted to be no higher than--”

Drake’s intent listening to the radio in the kitchen is halted by the back door opening. A gust of freezing air swirls through the doorway, snow flying in with it. Gosalyn, looking miserable, treks in with the cold.

“What happened to your-- well, I would ask about the fact you lost your scarf, but you’re missing a boot and your hat, too. Here, let me help,” Drake offers gently, setting down the steaming pot he’d just started to take off the stove. He tucks the pot holder into his pink apron’s pocket, and then reaches over her head to close the door.

“Tank took ‘em.” Gos grumbles and wiggles, trying to pull her puffy coat off despite the thick layer underneath. “I think he buried ‘em in the snow somewhere.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” He slips the parka off of her shoulders, revealing one of his sweaters underneath, too big for her and wrinkled from being squished between her coat and shirt. He sighs, frowning, but doesn’t comment. If it keeps her from freezing, he’ll take it. He kneels down so she can balance a hand on his shoulder to yank her remaining boot off.

“Honker had to go help set the table and Tank went in with him. I couldn’t find my stuff and it’s cold,” she mutters. “My feet are freezing.”

“I can imagine, walking home in the snow like that!” He kisses her forehead, then pulls the sweater off too. The collar and sleeves are cold and damp from the wintery conditions she came home in. “Alright, snowball, LP’s out at the store picking up the rest of dinner. Go take a shower to warm up before it’s time to eat.”

“Aw, man, I hope Launchdad brings dessert, too,” she chirps, and sprints for the stairs. He watches her go, a pleasant fondness rising in his chest. His whole world moves fast, between Gos and LP, but every day is full of more love than the last couple decades have been for him. He doesn’t think about where he was this time last year, doesn’t feel the cold of loneliness at night anymore.

He cleans up Gos’s laundry and hangs her parka to dry, then it’s back to the kitchen to finish making his family a warm dinner.

His other half comes back before he’s finished adding the carrots to his pot of soup with bags of groceries in hand. Drake takes them, and Launchpad kisses his forehead before taking off his coat. He gestures toward the stairs and the sound of the shower. “I take it Gosalyn got back before me?”

“Got back missing a boot, her hat, and her scarf. Says Tank took them. I’m going to call that Binkie and give her a piece of my mind after dinner.”

“Give Tank a chance first.” Launchpad starts unpacking the groceries while Drake continues cooking. “Not all kids grow up like their parents, if they’re given the space to change.”

He sighs. Of course, his husband is right, ever patient and kind. Some kids do grow past their parents, he… he understands that perfectly. And he is willing to offer the Muddlefoot boys the ability to be that way, he’s just an emotional firecracker some days. “Some days” definitely includes the ones on which his daughter comes home in the snow, half-barefoot and freezing.

Tank, however, is just a teenage boy. Have his parents sat down to tell him he’s got to be nicer to his brother or the neighbor kid? Unlikely. So maybe he needs a role model to follow that isn’t a suburban stereotype teaching him questionable lessons….

Drake finishes his cooking while lost in thought over what power he has to be a superhero in this situation, but ultimately, Tank does the right thing on his own. The winter gear appears on their porch the next morning, wrapped in plastic grocery bags to protect it from the snow.

The experience isn’t over at that, though, as good of a happily-ever-after as that would be. Gosalyn starts sniffling, and soon after, coughing until her whole body shakes. Great.

Drake prides himself on parenting skill, and in a situation like this, he’s researched what to do. He brings her warm juice for her throat, heats up leftover soup to keep something in her. Then, he takes to her side to keep her from getting bored and trying to get up and play while she’s recovering.

He carries her downstairs wrapped in her blanket. She protests, but it’s accompanied by a weak cough that cuts her off. He rubs gentle circles on her back, and sets her on the couch.

“TV? I wanna watch a horror movie,” she says with a mischievous smile. He frowns at her, hands on his hips. She sneezes, then suggests, “Maybe we could watch some of Launchdad’s tapes instead.”

“I can handle that. One of your games or something else?”

“No, do— achoo! Do the one from that time you and Gizmoduck saved the city.”

“I would rather you choose anything but that.”

“I know,” she’s got that Cheshire grin on again. “But I’m— achoo! I’m sick.”

“Really? You sure?”

“Dad!”

He laughs lightly and sticks the tape in the player, but before he can sit down to watch he grabs a bottle of cold medicine. She’s bound to fight him on taking it, so he makes it a little easier on himself by finding the orange flavor. She doesn’t like the grape kind, so when Launchpad’s sick that’s what he takes. Drake, an adult, usually chooses not to take any when he’s feeling bad(even if that does kind of make him a bad role model).

After a grumpy back-and-forth, Gos takes the little plastic cup with a frown. She pinches her beak to keep the smell out in an obvious show of theatrics before downing it. Yep, that’s his daughter.

After that’s through, he settles down beside her. She’s fairly bundled up, but she snuggles close enough to rest her head on his chest. He looks down at her, in a cozy burrito of blanket, and feels a familiar bubble of warmth in his chest.

He puts his arm around her gently, content just to hold her for a moment. She’s at the cusp of being too old for this, but he’ll take a sick day if it means a moment or two of this. He’s never been a fan of touch, but the one person that can always break that barrier for him is his little girl.

He’s never sure what it is. There’s days where even Launchpad can’t hold his hand, a constant stream of “don’t touch me” in his head. But Gosalyn, since the night they met, has had the ability to chase that off. Just about any time she wants to he’s okay with her little hand in his, or one of her crushing hugs. She’s a fireball, but if she needs love he gives it. He needs love too, for all his griping and emotional instability about it.

The TV starting the tape pulls him from his thoughts. This video is a set of recordings of news clips and shaky citizen-made videos they’d gathered after the fighting was done. Launchpad put together the tape, calling it a video memory of “his heroes saving St Canard.” Drake is usually fond of that admiration for him, but when coupled with Gizmoduck, of all people? No thanks.

Gos likes it though. She’s enraptured by it, quiet for a few moments of watching the battling or the interviews from afterward. And if she’s not talking, Drake’s achieved his main goal: she’s giving that sore throat a rest.

She falls asleep before it’s over, anyway, and he shifts her so she’s lying against the arm of the couch with a pillow beneath her head. He ducks into the bathroom for a moment, but as he's washing his hands, he sneezes. It’s a sharp one and his mouth hurts a little afterward. Oh, no.

He refuses to get sick. Nope. Gos needs him to be well, and to take care of her, and St Canard needs its protectorate at night! The great Darkwing Duck does not take sick days. He refuses to let this cold sink in.

Gos sleeps through the majority of that day, and Launchpad comes home from working on the Thunderquack through the afternoon to find her still snuggled up in the cushions. He shares a soft look with Drake, who’s taken up a position beside her to keep her comfortable.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said that cold was taking a lot out of her,” LP whispers. “She looks cute though.”

“Doesn’t she?” Drake replies, volume equally low. He glances over at her, red hair a mess without her usual ponytails. He shakes his head. “She’ll be better in a few days.”

“In time for the holidays, right?”

...the holidays, right. It’s the 15th. The Menorah and tree are up in the same room they’re in, and there's a good bit of festive decor in the kitchen where he spent half the day making food and drink to keep Gos comfy. He should really remember that, and yet here they are.

“Of course. It’s just a cold, Launchpad.”

“I know, but… it’s not gonna be a good Christmas if Gos isn’t feeling good!”

Drake rolls his eyes. “She’s gonna sneeze and cough for a few days, but she’ll be fine by Friday.”

“Promise?”

“Launchpad, what—“

Drake had been watching Gos’s little face, soft and innocent in sleep, but he looks up to see his partner with the saddest eyes. Oh. Obviously this holiday thing means more to him than Drake thought.

“She’s going to miss some of my folks’ Hanukkah celebration,” he says, incredibly quietly, looking to the floor.

“Oh, LP, don’t, uh, don’t worry. It’s just a little cold. Nothing too bad! She’ll be running us ragged again before we get ready to drive out there.” Drake bites his lower beak. Why is comfort so hard?

Launchpad’s frown doesn’t flicker, but his sad eyes meet Drake’s. “Last year was different. We weren’t really… well… you know.”

Drake nods, reaching for Launchpad’s hand. Is this right? Is this what he’s supposed to do? Ugh, they have parenting books aplenty, why don’t they make guides for losers whose partners need more love than they know how to give?

“It’s just a little cold, she’s going to be just fine by this weekend.”

Launchpad finally smiles, giving Drake’s hands a gentle squeeze, and he smiles back.

“And we’re okay too,” he adds, addressing what his partner is really worried about. Their first holiday season as a couple has had its fair share of rocky moments, this included, but it’s not enough to set back their celebration. Drake is sure of it.

At least, he is until the cold kicks into gear.

He tries not to cough too much, and hopes they don’t notice. He knows how to manage it, he’ll be fine. He just needs some vitamin… what was it again, C? D? He wrote it down somewhere….

Launchpad is busy with preparing cards and gifts for friends, and Gos is helping set up their little Menorah or wrap her Christmas gifts while snuggled up in a blanket on Drake and LP’s bed. Her throat is still a bit scratchy for days, but come that weekend, as promised, she’s fine again. Trust her and her energetic spirit to be one to recover quickly.

Drake is too, he reassures himself while stifling sneezes. He’ll shake this from his system before they even think about heading to LP’s parents’ place for Hanukkah. He doesn’t want to drag Launchpad’s holiday down by not being able to handle a little bit of sniffles.

He makes sure to drink enough water, and even cuts patrol an hour short to get more sleep. He takes good care of himself! And yet, he feels no better. Huh. Those remedies are supposed to work, and then he should be just fine to get back to things like before.

Instead he’s coughing in the bathroom and trying to keep quiet so Launchpad doesn’t hear.

LP is in the bedroom, opening holiday cards from that morning’s mail. How he keeps receiving them, Drake will never know. He has a half dozen already from friends far and wide. In comparison, Drake’s only gotten one, and he doesn’t feel it counts, since it was Morgana’s, addressed to the whole household.

Drake’s head is pounding. He can usually keep his sneezes at least semi-quiet, but coughing is harder. He’s out of breath, and his chest and throat ache from the congestion. He’s about ready to collapse when a coughing fit grips him, one he can’t stifle. He hears a rustling from the other room as his hacking slows, and he knows he’s been busted.

His partner pokes his head through the door, a quizzical look on his face. Once he sees Drake with a tissue to his beak, he realizes the situation instantly. Great, there goes Drake’s plan to keep this to himself til it passes.

“Aw, you caught Gos’s cold, didn’t you? You should have said something!”

Drake shrugs, tossing his Kleenex to the trash can and moving to wash his hands. “I wanted you to be able to focus on the holidays. I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh,” LP gives the half-filled trash can a quick glance, and the amount of tissues there betray Drake. Launchpad stares him down seriously. “Look at me.”

He does so quietly, a bit confused, and LP takes Drake’s face in his hands. “You matter more to me than candles or singing, I promise. If you’re sick, we can save the presents to open later, and if you don’t feel up to it, we can wait our trip to see my family for a day or two. You and Gos are my family too, and family’s what the holidays are for, right?”

Drake feels some kind of lump well up in his chest. Maybe it’s the contact, and he should tell LP to let go or pull away… or maybe it’s the sappy declaration and as he usually does he should brush it off as nothing.

But Drake is sick, now undeniably so. It’s muddled up his head and all he can think about is how he’d really like to be under a blanket right now. Rather be resting to recover fast, so he can get back to his family and their holiday things and protecting the city besides. He doesn’t have the energy to fight Launchpad’s everlasting care for him and honestly, right now, doesn’t want to.

His partner. ever a gift that keeps giving, knows what he needs without a word. LP gets a thermos of warm apple juice for Drake’s nightstand, leaves the Kleenex and an empty grocery store bag to toss them in within reach. He takes over dinner duty and helps Gos with her homework, giving Drake the ability to cozy up under a couple of blankets. When Gos is tucked in for the night, LP joins Drake, armed with the cold medicine and an unusual amount of determination.

Drake does not like medicine. He’s Darkwing Duck, for heaven’s sake! He doesn’t need to drink the foul-smelling concoction. And he’s an adult, besides! He can choose not to take it.

“C’mon, for me?” Launchpad requests. “I just want you to get better, okay?”

“You exist to—achoo! Torment me, don’t you,” he scoffs, taking the little plastic cup. It stinks worse than Launchpad’s laundry does after a long hot day in the garage. “This is gross.”

“Drake,” LP says, calmly but firmly. “I don’t like seeing you so sick. Let me take care of you, just this once.”

And Drake really can’t argue with that. It’s been two years now, but he still has trouble accepting that Launchpad cares about him. He’s just used to the time before they met when nobody cared for Drake Mallard, and hardly for Darkwing, either.

He downs the medicine and makes a face, and earns a soft forehead kiss.

“Thank you. See, you’ve got a fever, you’re super hot. You need that.”

“If you say so,” he scoffs halfheartedly, snuggling back under the covers. LP caresses his face with a gentleness he usually reserves for Gos. “I’ve got you, okay? Get some rest and you’ll feel better in no time.”

“I know, LP,” Drake replies, already drifting off. He doesn’t want to delay their Hanukkah celebration, but even with Launchpad coaxing him into taking medicine and forcing him to stay in bed, they leave a day later than they were planning.

Gos doesn’t seem to mind. They let her open up her presents from the two of them the day before, Drake curled up in a blanket and sniffling, and she’s happy to play with her new toys until it’s time to go. The snow isn’t falling on the drive out, and Launchpad’s folks have a warm dinner waiting when they arrive. Loopey even takes it upon herself to watch Gos for the evening to give Drake and LP a bit of a break.

Drake doesn’t like Launchpad’s parents. They kicked LP out, how could he still love them? An apology doesn’t fix that kind of damage! And yet here his partner is, catching up and laughing at jokes Drake doesn’t quite get. He seems to be so comfortable here with them, as if they never screwed up at all.

Drake’s own family is a forgotten story by now. They didn’t want him, they hurt him and cast him away. He doesn’t like to talk about them. But he thinks of them tonight, warm by a fireplace listening to his daughter laughing a little ways away and his partner telling a story with a smile on his face. He thinks of holidays as a kid, and how none of this… this sort of loving, safe atmosphere was here.

Thinking of forgotten, cold holidays of his childhood makes it click. Launchpad’s parents might have screwed up, might have hurt him, but they were always looking out for him. They wanted him to be independent and maybe they didn’t do it perfectly, but they did what they could. What they thought was best. And, really, that’s what Drake wants to do for Gosalyn, so maybe they’re not all that bad.

The McQuacks are far from perfect, but they’re a family all the same. And they’ve accepted Drake and Gos as Launchpad’s family, no questions asked. This is a good happy ending, Drake thinks. He’s alright with this.

Sometime through the night, while Drake’s sitting there listening to the conversation, Launchpad takes his hand. It’s not really unusual for him to quietly reach for Drake, and he isn’t feeling a terrible sense of aversion, so he puts his small hand in LP’s bigger one. LP doesn’t look away from his conversation with his father, something about propellers and engines, just gives Drake a small squeeze of silent love. Birdie sees it, though, and smiles softly at Drake, as if to soothe his fears about the McQuacks by showing him that they’re truly good people, despite any past stumbles.

Drake thinks that he would like this to continue forever, maybe, and he knows how to do that if only he can get over himself.

Late that night, with Gos and LP asleep, Drake slips out to the car. Among the old napkins and papers in the glove box, he’s hidden a small velvet box. He opens it under the dull yellow light, and it sparkles considerably. He shakes his head. What a dumb gift to buy, he thinks, but Launchpad’s the biggest sap on Earth, probably. He'll like it.

He locks the car up again and heads inside, and tucks the tiny surprise into his coat pocket before he takes it off. Tomorrow, with Launchpad’s family and Gos there, he’ll get down on one knee, and probably stutter over his words, and Launchpad will say yes because why wouldn’t he? They’re already partners in crime(fighting,) why wouldn’t he want to become partners in everything else?

For now, though, he’s happy to just climb into bed and feel safe and loved, knowing that he’s cared for when he needs it.


End file.
